Breaking Point: A Steamy Billionaire Romance

by BAKER, J. B.

  Sean shakes his head. “Another reason why my choice in woman had to be you. I will make the arrangements, including your suggestions.” He smiles warmly. “And no, I wasn’t thinking of firing anybody.”

  I feel nervous under his piercing gaze. I am suddenly reminded of last night’s orgasm. I blush crimson as the imagery takes a hold again with such force that I feel my groin area respond in kind.

  Michonne looks at me quizzically but says nothing. From the other side of the table, Sean smirks. It feels as if he can read my mind. I know he can. I know he knows that I thought of him while I came apart last night. It’s weird, but somehow I feel connected to him in a way I never thought possible. What is going on with me? Did he do it to himself as well? Did we have telepathic sex across the Atlantic Ocean? Oh, my, is this what they call finding one’s soul mate?

  Stop acting ridiculous. Pull yourself back together and get your head straight. You have an amazing offer on the table and all you have to do is play girlfriend in front of some French guy for one evening. But I want to be his girlfriend. I always did. How do I walk the fine line that separates play-acting and reality?

  “Okay, Sean.” I press my fingers onto the table. I swallow twice, forcing the vision of the man sitting across from me from between my legs and heart. “I’m good at communications and I know my way around the energy business.” I swallow again. Sean bloody Courtney is just as stubborn in my mind as he is outside of it. “But don’t you have a communications team of your own at Courtney’s?”

  Sean frowns. “We do, but none of the women working for me are as competent or as beautiful as you are.”

  I blush. “I see. Tell me again why it is so important that you have a woman by your side? I am sure you have other people who speak French and know their way around the energy business.”

  “There are two reasons, Rachel. For one, we always worked well together back in the day. Second, I need a woman because it always was the kind of work my late wife did for me.” Sean shrugs. “My Clarice had such a way with people; she could get anyone to do her bidding if she believed in the cause. She was wonderful. I am only lucky I get to see a little bit of her every day in my daughter, Portia.”

  I nod in almost perfect concert with Michonne. Sean has such an incredible way of putting things. I just never guessed he could be such a one-woman guy. He really loved his wife. It’s a fact that stands in such direct contrast to the way he behaves nowadays. If he had never mentioned this, I would have thought he cheated on his wife on a daily basis.

  “So, you were faithful to Clarice?” I blurt, my cheeks flushing on the spot. What the fuck! I can’t believe I just asked that.

  Sean chuckles. “Yes, I was. Difficult to believe, huh? I could never have had another woman other than her. I met my wife and fell in love with her on the spot. I guess that’s what you call love at first sight. She meant everything to me. So, the moment we graduated from Oxford, we married and moved to London where I started work in the family business. Little Portia soon followed.”

  I see the eyes of the man I considered the most shallow and uncouth on the planet water up slightly at the memory of his dear wife. His strange behaviour is a front, I realize. Sean is probably one of the most sensitive and deep men I have ever met.

  “What happened to her, to your wife?”

  Sean sighs as if the weight of the world sits on his shoulders. “She died in a car accident when Portia was only three years old. We never found the guy who killed her. The police said it was some kind of drunk. In the end, it didn’t matter. She was dead. I could never be with another woman again after that. Well, intimately, in an emotional sense. The physical always panned out – I’m a guy, right, and they have needs.” He exhales a gust of air that comes from the depth of his lungs.

  “But I don’t think Clarice would’ve wanted that,” says Michonne.

  “I know that. When she died, she made me promise that I should fall in love again.” Sean hitches his shoulders. “She was a woman too, you know. She also made me promise never to forget her and the love we shared.”

  The two women nod knowingly. “You won’t forget her, Sean. Even if another woman comes along,” says Michonne.

  “It just seems that I’d be betraying my love for Clarice in doing so.”

  “No, no, Sean. Love is so much more than that. Each time we love, we love differently. No two loves are the same. You cannot compare them because to do so would do them an injustice. You also don’t own love, but hold it in trust for as long as you can. So, when someone else enters your life and you fall in love with her, you’d never be cheating on Clarice. On the contrary, you’d be celebrating what you had by keeping your promise to her and knowing in your heart of hearts that what you had was special.”

  I am always intrigued by Michonne’s wisdom – she never ceases to amaze me. No wonder she’s been married to the same man for the last thirty years and they still love each other. They probably do more so now than on the day they married.

  “Wow, Michonne…that was really deep and so true.”

  Sean nods.

  “Thanks for that. I know that my Clarice would want me to have a real girlfriend after all of this time.”

  His gaze rests on me for a split-second.

  “But let’s start with a fictional one first.”

  He winks at me. I can see the vestiges of his melancholy lift off him like a haze off damp clothing when the sun comes out. Within moments, he is the take-charge businessman again.

  “Rachel, if you don’t mind me saying, you are the closest thing I will ever find to a girlfriend or a wife or maybe even a mistress right now.”

  I scowl. I can live with the wife or girlfriend bit, but not mistress. “Mistress!” I hiss.

  Sean can’t help laughing. “Trust you to stick to the last one. Listen, the French appreciate attractive women. I will introduce you as my associate. We’ll leave it to him to decide what we are behind closed doors. He will know the moment he meets you that you are far more than just a bed warmer.”

  My jaw drops. Was that a compliment, Mr Sean Courtney? However strangely worded, you think I’m smart and worth having around. “You are the most complicated man on the planet. Why the hell did you dump me like a sack of sh… two years ago? I’d love to know the answer to that one.”

  “Okay, you have yourself a mistress without benefits.”

  My sudden decision somehow takes me aback. However, I have a good feeling about it nonetheless. Deep down, I know that he’s a good guy. A little misguided and a serial womanizer, but his heart is in the right place. I will help him secure this deal because it is bigger than me and our petty differences.

  Sean smiles wolfishly.

  “Absolutely no benefits at all? Not even a little kiss to prove our commitment to our roles?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  I feel the heat rise up to my face again. My mouth said one thing, my brain half-heartedly complied, but my body rebels with hot flushes and pulses that all radiate outwards from my crotch. It’s like that part of me has a mind of its own. I fight back with declarations in my mind that I am a professional businesswoman and not some lusty slut in search of her next lay. I do not depend on men. On the contrary, I have lived for years without one. And yet, in this moment, I would like to do nothing more than have sex with Sean bloody Courtney.

  “It looks like we have a deal. I’ll have my people send over the documents concerning the integration of your communications department into mine. Also, the appointment of you, Rachel, as chief communications officer and Michonne as your second based here in NYC.”

  He gets up and walks around the conference table until he stands next to me.

  “You may say no benefits, but your body says different. See you on the plane, gorgeous.”

  Sean shakes Michonne’s hand and vacates the room.

  Argh, the nerve of that guy – I don’t know if I am angrier with him for noticing or at my body for betraying me so. I behaved like a gi
rl with her first crush after all that he did to me. Yet, the more I spend time with Sean, the more the memory fades. I can’t believe that I am gradually forgiving him.

  Chapter 14

  SEAN

  “That went well. You were incredible, Rachel. You were ace. The guy was totally smitten by you.”

  Rachel nods back at me and flashes a smile. “Thanks, Sean. I am just happy it all worked out so well. Please excuse me. I will be right back.”

  I move my head closer so that I can inhale her scent as she gets up. It invades my nostrils in a torrent of sweet wafts of perfume and spicy womanhood. I could sniff on Rachel the entire day and night and not get enough of it. I am grateful that I chose a table in the back of the restaurant where I could sit right next to her. Throughout the whole dinner, her fragrant aroma held me captive. Thank God she did most of the talking because my brain was replaced by cocksville.

  I watch her walk out of the restaurant. I smirk when I see all of the waiters exchanging furtive glances as they secretly appreciate her womanly perfection. I know women, and I have never seen anything like her. Her ass fits snuggly in the tight, but tasteful black dress she is wearing. Rachel opted not to tie her hair back. The golden tresses tumble down her back lazily. When she turns the corner by the exit, she sneaks me a quick glimpse before vanishing out of sight, causing my heart to nearly jump out of my mouth.

  She’s interested. Only when they are interested do they look back. I know I promised myself not to take things any further with Rachel, but my vulturine instincts are in overdrive mode. I need her. I need to have her butt naked and straddling my cock – now – it’s as if I masturbated the image of her onto the seams of my brain.

  I stare at the empty doorway to the dining room. My mind has gone blank. I can’t think of anything. Every time a neuron sparks to life, it congers up images of her face and body. When I let myself succumb to them, they vanish, only to be replaced by a warm feeling in the pit of my stomach. It turns to heat and spreads over my body like a malarial fever. I have not known such sensations since Oxford.

  “Are you okay?”

  My eyes snap up. I nod. Like a tiger observing his prey, I watch her sit down and take a sip of her wine. The way her tongue slides over her lips sends jolts over my body. Her every move is feline and graceful, but that is not it. I feel more than just carnal longing. I want to protect her, be there for her and never hurt her again. It is a sentiment that was birthed two years ago. It has taken me all that time to cultivate it and channel the energy so that I can understand it. It was as if the death of my wife had robbed me of that knowledge. Tonight, with her, I finally understand what needs to be done. I only hope that it is not too late.

  Rachel had dealt with the dinner meeting in her customary professional manner. She had slowly wrapped the Frenchman around her finger and by the time the desserts arrived, he hung on her every word. Of course, he made the occasional chauvinistic remark, saying that with a French accent like she had, she should be his mistress and not mine. But Rachel had brushed that aside by claiming that I was such a good man, she could never leave me. Her words were so convincing, I nearly believed her. In a way, I want to believe that it is true.

  When dinner came to a close, the President’s assistant had to nearly drag him back to the Élysée Palace lest he consumed another brandy and started an international incident the following day during a major summit. Rachel and I got what we came for – the merger in France is secure. Tomorrow, it’s back to NYC for Rachel so that she can make some final arrangements before she relocates to London. And for me, back to London and Portia.

  I wonder what I will get to tell my daughter. It is a little past eleven in the evening – some might say the night is still young. I hope it is. There is still so much more I want to say to Rachel. We always had a connection, but right now, what we have is stronger than ever.

  I think of Portia again. Before I left, she had checked the contents of my luggage, making sure I took the right shirts, ties and even underwear. At first, I had no idea what she was playing at. Portia, however, is useless at keeping her intentions to herself. Once she was satisfied with the inside of my suitcase, she made me promise that I would be nice to Rachel. She also said that it was about time I brought a woman back to the hotel more than once. Also, Portia complained that the quality of the women she had noticed leaving my bedroom in the past were of questionable repute.

  I smile. I can’t help thinking that I’ve been trumped by a sixteen-year-old who probably assumes she has more knowledge on romance than I do. Not that what Rachel and I are doing is romancing, of course. This is a business dinner gone well. We will probably have a few more drinks and go back to the room. Although, I would love to kiss her right now.

  “To be frank, he was not the only one who was impressed,” I say, steering the conversation back to the dinner.

  Rachel smiles at me over the rim of her wine glass.

  “Does that mean you don’t regret buying me out and hiring me as your chief communications officer?”

  “Not in the least. Best decision I ever made.”

  I watch her shift her tight ass in her chair. We are sitting at Le Cinq, the two Michelin star restaurant in the George Cinq Hotel in Paris. The dining room is reminiscent of one in an opulent château. It is luxurious, yet also surprisingly welcome. The elegant room bathed in gold has oil paintings adorning the walls and beautiful flower arrangements all setting the perfect scene for one of the best culinary experiences in the city.

  The French President had sure tucked into every dish of the eight-course-tasting menu with hearty vigour. His penchant for the wine was no less enthusiastic. It was fortunate that I ordered a magnum bottle of Château Pétrus.

  “I am just happy I am here and could be of service.”

  I wait for her to take another sip of wine. I know she has more to say.

  “Did you know that I have never been to Paris before?”

  “No, really? It is the most beautiful city.”

  “Yeah, I saw as much on the way in. And this…”

  Rachel sweeps her arms over the dining room.

  “The main hall of this hotel is like a work of art. So tasteful how they arranged those large mirrored squares with the anthracite suede leather padding on all five sides in the centre of the lobby. And those magnificent flower arrangements on top of them. I feel like a princess in a fairytale.”

  I smile at her enthusiasm. It’s infectious.

  “Yes, it’s very nice. This hotel is famous for that kind of stuff…”

  I start to tell her some more about Paris and the hotel. I smile inwardly when I see her hanging on my every word.

  Chapter 15

  RACHEL

  Oh, my God, he looks so good. I can’t take my eyes off Sean. The way his soft lips and jaw move when he talks. His voice is soft and melodious, drawing me in further and further. I could listen to him for the rest of the night and never get tired of the sound. The guy just knows so much. I don’t know whether I am registering anything he is telling me because I am so entranced by the baritone sounds coming from his throat and the way his jade-coloured eyes sparkle.

  I know something is happening between us. I just don’t know what. We didn’t speak much during the flight over on his Airbus 380. The plane is so huge; we hardly saw each other because he was busy on the phone in his private study for most of the journey and I was preparing for tonight’s dinner.

  Despite his absence, I felt his presence everywhere. All it took was for him to occasionally walk past and offer me a smile or ask how I felt. He appeared out of the blue to ask me whether I needed any more information on the President. To top it off, a huge selection of dresses, like the one I’m wearing now, was presented to me mid-flight. It was as if Sean was not acting out his role as the boyfriend, but living it.

  A small place inside of me wishes that it would be the case. I wanted it two years ago and I still want it. However, a dark cloud still hangs over my shoulder. Can
I trust him? Is Sean not like most men – like my father? He couldn’t be trusted to stick around for his daughter. It makes me think how cold a person must be to be able to abandon their own flesh and blood.

  “Rachel, Rachel, did you hear what I just said?”

  I look up. Sean is looking right at me. Concern is written all over his face.

  “Yes, I am fine. I was just lost in thought for a moment,” I stutter.

  He chuckles.

  “I can see that. I guess Paris doesn’t quite cut it for you. I was just talking about the Tuileries and the beautiful gardens there.”

  He moves closer so that I can smell the healthy masculine virility emanating off his body. It’s intoxicating, making me melt in the core. All I would have to do is move a little closer and I could kiss him on the lips. I want to, so, so much, but something holds me back; an instinct, a feeling that circles in my mind or heart. Another part of me wants to go for it and worry about the consequences later. Which part is it, the brain or the heart?

  “Tell me, what’s bothering you that even the place where the Bourbon kings once wandered cannot distract you?”

  I smile at his worry. It’s him acting all protective again like he did on the flight over. I have seen him do it before. It was when he was with his daughter, Portia. He treats her just the same. Why he is treating me like that all of a sudden is beyond me. I am just not used to such attention from him. I bite down on my lip when I remember him walking out of the stateroom two years ago to never return. By the time I set foot on the deck for breakfast after, I was told that my flight had been arranged for that same afternoon. It reminded me of my father all over again.

  “I just thought of my family – that’s all,” I say at last.